Secret
by layhee
Summary: Myka comes out to Steve. Sort of. Bering/Wells


"You know," Steve begins, his voice stretched a bit thin as he reaches high to nudge the box onto the shelf, "I love this job. But do you ever find it hard? I mean, in a personal way?" Returning to normal height, he dusts his hands on his jeans.

Myka looks at him over her clipboard. "A personal way?"

"Yeah," he shrugs. "You know, South Dakota, Univille, middle of nowhere?"

"Uh," says Myka, tucking the pen into the metal clip. "I guess it does get kind of boring sometimes, when there're no pings or crazy artifacts trying to kill us?" She pauses. "But I kind of like those times, don't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Jinks amends, grabbing the trolley of boxes. "Yeah, yeah. Of course. Uh, where to next? Aisle 42…?"

"429B."

"Right." They set off. "I just mean, doesn't the small town mentality ever get to you? And there's literally no one to meet."

A step ahead of him, Myka looks back. "Small town mentality?" She cocks her head to the side a bit, not really sure what he's getting at. "I guess… Here, this way."

He follows as she rounds a bend. "Yeah. You know, closed-minded, intolerant, et cetera, et cetera. It just… bugs me sometimes." He scans the aisle markers as they pass by. "I mean, it must have happened to you by now; you've been out here longer than I have, right?"

"Uh, sure?" Myka is checking the sheet and not entirely listening.

"How do you deal with it?" Steve looks up. "Oh wait, doesn't this one go just up here? Hold up." He stops to tuck a small crate onto a shelf and scans its tag. "There." They continue on. "I mean, I keep running into this guy at the coffee shop and you know, we've been chatting, he's really cool, all that. And then I go to ask him if he wants to get coffee _with_ _me _some time, and he's all 'Whoa, dude, I don't swing that way; where do you think we are, L.A.?'" He waves his hands and grimaces for emphasis. "That's really never happened to you?"

Myka stops and looks over at him. "Why L.A.?"

Steve frowns at her. Is she really not on the same page here? "Well, cause, you know, liberal-minded L.A., open L.A., _gay_ L.A.?"

She blinks. "Steve," she says slowly, "if I ask a guy to coffee, it's not very… 'gay'."

Oh. "Oh." He backpedals. "_Oh_. Oh I just assumed, since with—uh—with Wells, and the way you—you two—_And_ I'm just going to keep putting these boxes away and we can pretend that this conversation never happened. Sorry." He continues on hurriedly, ears red.

Myka looks after him, a corner of her mouth curled in amusement but her head tilted in alarm. Of course he noticed; he's a human lie detector. Did the others notice too? Arty? Claudia? Pete—no, it was safe to say that Pete hasn't noticed. Right?

And what if they've noticed? Would they care? Would it be an issue? Would—

Steve has gotten a far ways ahead. Myka blinks hard and hurries to catch up, plucking her composure off the ground as she goes.

They find Aisle 429B and place the crate in silence. Scanning in its tag, Myka glances sideways at Steve. She looks back at the small screen, then back over at him. "Um, Steve—" she begins. He looks quickly over at her. She swallows. "I… I just—Look, don't worry." She takes a deep breath. "I'm… not gay. But H.G…. and I…" She realizes she's wringing her hands and makes a conscious effort to flatten them against her legs. She's halfway there now and there's no turning back, so she charges ahead. "I like her." She folds her fingers together and tries to pretend like that statement doesn't make her sound thirteen. "I mean, I… I think I'm _in_ _love with her?_" The last words come out as a small squeak and she averts her eyes, hoping her face isn't as red as it feels.

When she looks back at Jinks, he has an odd look on his face. Half-smile, half-sympathy, he reaches a hand to her shoulder. She blinks hard and tries to keep his gaze. "Did I just… come out to you?" It's barely a whisper, but better than a squeak.

He nods, now more smile than sympathy.

"Oh." She takes a moment to process. "Okay." Her mouth quirks shyly. "Is that okay?"

He grins and looks like he might hug her. He doesn't, but he does slip the hand on her shoulder around to the other one and gives her a small sideways squeeze. "This is a terrible thing to say right now," he says mischievously, smiling broadly at her, "but I wish Claudia was here, because she would owe me so much money!" He hops a bit, gleeful. Myka glares. "Oh no no!" He clasps his hands around one of hers. "I'm not going to tell her. Don't worry. But I _knew_ it! See? And when you said—"

Myka shakes her head and laughs a bit, nerves still all aflutter but feeling much more comfortable. Steve is chuckling. She feels his hand on her shoulder again and looks up at him.

"Hey," he says. "Don't worry. I know how this works, believe me. I won't tell a soul. But I'm happy you trusted me, Myka – even if I already knew." He winks. "Welcome to the club!"

She whacks his arm. "Hey." She's smiling again. "I said, I'm not gay, I just…"

"Oh, I know. Still," he grins. "I mean, H.G. Wells? Even _I'd _give some serious thought to switching sides."

Myka smiles, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, and follows him down the aisle.


End file.
